The Time Shifts
by Nezzie Evans
Summary: Harry is finally together with Draco and everything seems perfect when someone appears from the past, claiming he time travelled by accident. It's up to Harry and his friends to fix things - but how do you stop time from shifting at Hogwarts when you can't even hand in your Potions essay on time?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Please review! :)**

_Disclaimer: If you recognise any of the content it's because, unfortunately, it's not mine but J.K. Rowling's._

...

**Chapter 1 - Harry**

I rolled over, groaning inwardly as I grabbed my wand, cast a Tempus charm and realised I had about 5 minutes to get to the Great Hall before I missed breakfast. I stared up at the canopy of my 4 poster bed for a few seconds, and then sprang into action with another groan. I'd lost count of all the times I'd been late waking up over the past few months, and smiled to myself as I rooted through my trunk looking for a fresh set of robes. Not finding any I briefly contemplated the rumpled pair hanging over the chair in the corner, shrugged and put them on anyway, not especially minding my rumpled appearance – it was my looks obsessed boyfriend who'd have an objection against it. I hopped into the bathroom as I put my shoes on, washed my face, brushed my teeth quickly and was about to grab a comb when I looked in the mirror again and realised there was no hope. Instead I dumped a glass of cold water over my head, ran my hands through my hair and hoped it would look messed up on purpose rather than messed up due to faulty genes. I guessed it would be the latter, as usual. I grabbed for my bag on the way out, missed, went back, tried again and ran down the stairs slinging my prize over my shoulder. Keeping my head down on my way out I hoped people wouldn't stop me on my way to food – I really did feel like having a sausage today. I was about 10 metres away from the doors of the Great Hall, food in sight, when a first year Hufflepuff stepped in front of me, forcing me to pull up short. My stomach resented the interruption and growled in disapproval. I stared at the boy for a few seconds, hoping I looked annoyed enough to make the Hufflepuff scurry out of the way. After a few seconds it became clear that it wasn't going to happen, so I sighed and changed my body language to show I was listening. The first year visibly manned up, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath before he addressed me, saying

"Ha- Um, Mr Potter? Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you this... He said he needed you in his office in 10 minutes?"

The kid held out a slip of parchment with a slightly trembling hand and looked at the cracked floor. I sighed again, took it, looked up at the terrified looking Hufflepuff and said "Thanks. You can call me Harry by the way." He nodded slightly and almost ran towards a group of first years hovering by the stairs. Even from where I was I could hear the excited questions about what it had been like to talk to me and the Hufflepuff, who had been shaking when actually talking to me, puffed out his chest and acted like he was king purely because he'd passed on a message from the absolute bastard we had the misfortune to call our Headmaster, boasting that I'd told him to call me Harry. Speaking of the not so lovely Headmaster... I looked down at the familiar loopy handwriting spread over the scrap of parchment and felt my stomach sink down to my shoes as I hastily skimmed it. Yep, the first year had been right when he'd said Dumbledore wanted to see him in 10, no, now 7 minutes. I looked longingly through the doors of the Great Hall, seeing the sausages I'd been craving sitting so invitingly and almost within reach. And, of course, Draco sitting on the other side of the hall smiling at me and making "come here" gestures. I looked at the sausages again and considered running in and stuffing in a few bites before I went up to that damned office to listen to God knows what coming out of that bearded idiot's mouth and nod my head politely, but I knew that if I went in I wouldn't be going back out nearly as soon as I'd think, which would end in one of those disappointed looks coming from Dumbledore and a very politely phrased detention. I looked back at Draco and shook my head once, and with one last disappointed look through the big doors I hurried away towards the office.

...

When I got there I stared at the gargoyle guarding the office for a few moments while I tried to recall the password. Something with chocolate maybe? He always did have it related to sweets, but if I tried to name all of the wizarding world's sweets I would be here forever, especially since I hadn't discovered even half of them yet. Maybe the muggle sweets? Dumbledore had always had a thing for Sherbet Lemons hadn't he? Or was it liquorice? I decided to start guessing since I didn't have long left before I was meant to be up there. Why couldn't they have some sort of handy bell down here for the students who couldn't keep up with the Headmaster's erratic password changes, like me? I decided to start naming sweets, and said,

"Um... Liquorice? No? Sherbet Lemons then? Honeydukes? Chocolate? Bonbons? For God's sake why can't he keep the same password and have a lovely little note out here reminding us what it is?! Mint humbugs?"

A voice floated down from above, saying (remarkably calm sounding considering it was talking to a student who was yelling random sweet names at an immobile statue),

"I do believe having a sign telling people what the password is would defeat the purpose of having a password Harry. Speaking of which, it's Liquorice Snaps. I hate mint. Why on Earth would I make my password mint humbugs?"

The gargoyle moved out of the way and I started climbing the stairs, feeling more and more annoyed by the second. First he makes sure I can't have breakfast. Then he says absolutely nothing while I shout random sweets at a statue, knowing I'm making a complete fool of myself and hoping the damn statue would move out of the way already. And now he dares to make fun of me for it when it's his entire fault anyway! I climbed up the stairs as moodily as I could, and when I glared at Dumbledore sitting calmly at his desk I glared at him as ferociously as humanly possible. And he smiled. I was so astounded that when he gestured at one of the chairs in front of his desk I strode over to it without thinking and plonked myself down on it, still trying to think why it was that my evillest look of all time had made him _smile._ I barely paid attention to what he was saying, not being especially interested to begin with, until I saw out of the corner of my eye a pale boy of maybe a little older than me with dark hair and unreadable eyes. He was sitting in the corner of the room staring up at all the different portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts and immediately got my attention – he looked so _familiar_. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't stop staring at the boy and wondering where I knew him from, and each time I looked over the smile playing around his mouth grew a little more. Damn it, he probably thought I was interested in him. Oh well, that wouldn't last long, if he was a new student here it wouldn't take him long to find out that I was already with someone and perfectly happy with that someone. I started happily daydreaming about that someone and was just starting to forget my bad mood, when Dumbledore, as per usual, had to go out of his way to ruin it with only a few words. He said,

"Harry, are you even listening to me? This is serious! I said, time is _shifting_ in Hogwarts and the boy you've been staring at half the time you've been in here is proof of that. Do you recognise him?"

I blushed furiously at the fact the old guy had caught me in the act, and looked at the boy again, who was definitely grinning now, studying him carefully. I said, "It feels like I should know him, but no, I don't."

A brief look of smugness passed over his deeply lined face, wry amusement sparking in those scarily pale blue eyes before he smoothed his face back into a serious expression, and said,

"Well, that, my dear boy, is Tom Riddle. Remember him?"

The name triggered some sort of reflex and I spun out of my chair and against the wall, thereby effectively squashing some former Headmaster or Headmistress' portrait, which let out a squawk of indignation, and pointed my wand at the boy with a spell ready to cast. My brain caught up with my body then and it dawned on me that I was behaving pretty irrationally considering I had no idea who Tom Riddle was and why I should recognise him. Thinking the name sent unpleasant shivers down my spine, and yet I had no idea why. I just felt like I couldn't trust the boy in front of me, who had also gotten out his wand and was staring at me with a look of complete bewilderment, as unsure of why I was defending myself against him as I was. I lowered my wand slowly and reluctantly, and looked back at Dumbledore, who was leaning back in his chair very calmly and regarding us coolly from over his half-moon spectacles. I said, suddenly very unsure of myself,

"It feels like I should, but I really don't. How do I know him, and why don't I remember him?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly and said, "That, Harry, is a very good question. I don't know."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – Tom**

I walked down to the library, being careful to avoid all of the places I knew the caretaker had spelled to know when there were students out of bed. I crept along carefully, intent on my mission of getting into the Restricted Section. I was far from giving up on my plans of finding the spells I wanted there, I'd just stopped trying to convince teachers to give me a pass so I could have access to it, and I was definitely not going to try sweet talking the new librarian into letting me in. She'd started working here at the beginning of the school year, in September, and she'd seemed to all like a big improvement to our last librarian – a horrible and resentful old bag with a memory that was good enough to hold a grudge against you for your entire school career, purely for returning a book a day after you should have. As it turned out, she was just the exact same person in the form of a young witch in her early 20s. So I refused to try talking her into handing over a pass to give me access to my spells. It took me a while to get there because I had to keep backtracking and taking long routes because of the caretaker's spells, and the last thing I needed right now was to be caught sneaking around in the middle of the night _again_. I cast a few detection spells at the simple rope that was separated the library and the Restricted Section and I wondered why they thought that would keep curious students out when I found no spells between me and the books I'd been fighting to get to for so long. As I stepped over the rope carefully I answered my own question – combine the constantly hovering librarian and the spells cast all over the castle by the caretaker and most students would never get this far or would simply give up. But not me, and now my efforts were about to be paid off. I was looking for the darker spells, and I'd searched every book in the library since my first year, flicking through desperately, hoping to find a spell more useful than levitating a quill to me rather than having to get up and I'd found none. I'd started eyeing the books in here since the end of my fourth year and had been devoting my time to finding a way in. And now that I had it there was nothing to stop me from coming down here every night until I found the spells I so desperately needed. It wasn't that I wanted to be "evil", as Dumbledore would put it, I wanted to be powerful. To be powerful I needed good spells, and to get good spells I needed to find dark ones because the light ones were so obviously useless. As I wandered through the shelves looking for a likely book I could have sworn the books were whispering among themselves, which made me wary of them, but I still wasn't leaving until I found at least one snippet of information I could use. I spotted a small volume, pushed to the back of the shelves, almost completely hidden amongst the huge stacks of books around it, and reached for it slowly, waiting for it to do something like try to eat my hand. When it remained a normal book I slid it out more confidently and looked at the title. It seemed to be Greek, which made me feel a bit more hopeful – the harder it was to read the more likely it was the information inside was valuable. I took it with me to a dark corner, pointed my wand at it and murmured a spell to translate the words for me. The order of the words wouldn't be changed, so what I would be reading wouldn't make much sense, but it would be a whole lot easier to decipher than Ancient Greek.

"Lumos."

The tip of my wand lit up and I pointed the thin beam of light at the pages of the book. I could make out the title of what looked like the second chapter, and it suddenly struck me how old the book must have been. The pages were incredibly thin and fragile, splotched with ink, and I realised the book had been handwritten. Why this surprised me so much I didn't know, it just did. I shook it off and read the first word. It didn't really sound right, and I whispered it to myself, willing it to make sense,

"Horcruxes. What on Earth are horcruxes?"

I thought the spell might have malfunctioned and only made the words look like English rather than fully translating them, so I cast it again and had another look. Nothing. I gave up and moved my gaze down to the text as a huge yawn made my eyes water. I read something about souls being split, which made no sense, but was too busy yawning again to wonder about it much. I suddenly felt incredibly tired, and leaned my head against the cold stone wall behind me, wondering what was going on. I didn't feel like getting up and going back to my dorm, but I knew staying here would be risky when I was this tired. I thought it over for a few seconds before deciding it wouldn't hurt to just close my eyes for a little while, and then everything went dark.

...

I started awake at a loud noise that sounded a lot like nails being dragged excruciatingly slowly down a chalkboard, and my first thought was that Peeves had somehow gotten into the Slytherin dorm when I realised that I could make out the odd word. I realised that the God-awful sound that had woken me was meant to pass for someone _singing_. I shuddered and let myself fall back, wondering who it was that had managed to hide that terrible voice for so long, when my head hit something cold and hard instead of my pillow. I jerked up and clutched at the back of my head, which was already starting to feel a little warm, and decided I was going to have a goose egg. The terrible singing started again, just as I noticed I was surrounded by books, and that the noise was moving my way, getting louder steadily, accompanied by the clicking of heels. I scrambled up, and the black leather book I'd picked up the night before fell off my lap and hit the floor with a surprisingly loud _thud_. The screeching stopped abruptly, and I kept myself completely still, repeating the same chant in my head over and over.

"Please don't come over here, please don't find me, please don't come over here, please don't find me..."

No such luck. I heard them take a few tentative steps in my direction, heels clicking against the stone floor. I dove behind the nearest shelf and pressed my back against it, slowly and quietly shuffling towards the exit to the main library. The clicking of heels stopped again and I froze. I turned my head towards where I thought they were and continued to shuffle away, even slower than before. My foot hit something when I tried to take another step to the side, and I just had time to look down before a huge tower of books toppled and hit the floor, the noise deafening. Abandoning caution I sprinted towards the exit, knowing any chance of a quiet getaway had now gone. On my way I looked back, and immediately proceeded to trip over one of the volumes that now littered the floor, and I was sent sprawling on the floor. I tried getting up but I was stopped by a pointy something pushing into my back, effectively putting an end to my attempts to get to freedom. I slowly lifted my head and managed to catch sight of a fluorescent pink feather duster being brandished at me, and above that I saw a familiar looking face. An exact copy of Madam Pince stared down at me, a carbon copy right down to the sour expression on her face. The only difference was that this version was _old_, and wore glasses. Maybe Pince Sr had come for a visit? That seemed like the best explanation to me, so I put it aside for now. Pince Sr blinked, her small eyes magnified by the glasses she wore, and then she opened her mouth,

"Tom? Tom Riddle?" she asked uncertainly.

I had no idea how she knew my name, but since she was starting to push down on my back less I was happy enough to just nod, or try to anyway. I got the message across and she slowly opened her mouth again.

"FILCH! FILCH! GET DOWN HERE! FILCH!

Her shrill voice echoed on the stone walls unpleasantly, and I struggled to get my hand up to cover the ear that wasn't pressed against the freezing floor, which was making the left side of my face go numb. The adrenaline that had been pumping through my system had kept me from noticing it before, but everything ached, like I'd been stretched too far. I chalked it up to spending the night sleeping in an awkward position, and continued struggling to get my hand up. Pince Sr kept on screaming at the top of her voice, and to my dismay, when I did finally manage to cover my ear her voice was barely muffled. At last the yelling stopped, replaced by a weird shuffling, and at the very edge of my limited field of vision I saw an ugly, slightly stooped man with matted brown hair desperately in need of a cut stare down at me. I had no idea who exactly this guy was, but I was absolutely certain he didn't belong here. I pushed back my slight feeling of revulsion and focused instead on what was being said. Pince Sr was saying,

"-recognise him? I do, but the last time I saw him was a good 40 years back."

The man – Filch – grunted, "All that scum looks the same to me, but I can't really say I've ever noticed him before, no."

They both looked at me again, and I wished she would just let me up. I wasn't exactly comfortable. I opened my mouth to ask, but the man got there first.

"I suppose I should take him to Dumbledore then?"

Prince Sr nodded, and finally removed her shoe from where it had been planted firmly in my back for the past 10 minutes. I scrambled up quickly and straightened my robes, trying to assume an air of dignity and feeling very sure I was failing miserably. Filch grabbed me by the scruff of my neck as if I was a misbehaving puppy and pulled me away. I stumbled along, half twisted to the side and struggling to keep up – this Filch guy could hobble along pretty fast. We were soon standing in front of the stone statue that guarded the Headmaster's office, which confused me. I'd thought he was taking me to see Dumbledore, whose office was down by the Transfiguration classrooms. Filch grunted "Liquorice snaps", and stepped forwards as the statue started to move up, revealing stairs. I was too busy wondering why in the Heavens someone would make their password a type of sweet to pay much attention until we arrived upstairs and Filch grabbed the big knocker, letting it fall once.

"Come in."

The door opened and we stepped into a room both very well known to me and completely different at the same time. There was a small spindly table with odd silver-looking instruments on it that produced the occasional puff of steam. The room also seemed lighter than I remembered, and behind the huge wooden desk sat, not Dippet, but Dumbledore. Or someone who looked a whole lot like Dumbledore but older, with a longer beard and longer hair, both now pure white. Filch pushed me into the room, and I noticed another difference between the office I remembered and this version – there was now a big fireplace with a couple of comfortable looking squashy chairs in front it. I turned my attention back to old Dumbledore, who was staring at me with a reaction strikingly similar to the one Pince Sr had shown upon recognising me. He, too, felt the need to confirm that I was indeed Tom Riddle. He stared at me for a few minutes, pale blue eyes oddly unfocused, as if he was remembering something before he snapped back to the present, eyes sharp and focused again. He stood up and murmured,

"Excuse me please."

He walked towards a corner of the room where he opened a cabinet and got out a large stone basin and several small glass vials. He levitated them back to his desk and strode over, seating himself in the large golden throne again. He gestured at the chairs in front of him, inviting me to sit, and I did so gratefully as he thanked Filch, who was still hovering in the doorway. Filch nodded, turned and left. Dumbledore contemplated the bowl for a minute before getting out his wand from where he had stowed it up his sleeve. He placed the tip of it against his temple and drew out a slivery thread, which he put into one of the little glass vials. He did so repeatedly until all of the vials were filled, which took a good half hour. Once he'd done that he picked up a vial and emptied it into the basin, placing his finger on the surface of the liquid for a few minutes at a time. He then stored it in its glass vial again and did the same with the next one, and the next, until he's finished with all of them. This took another hour and a half, and yet I never lost interest. When he was sitting there with his finger touching the liquid there would be an occasional flash of emotion on his lined face, gone again just as quickly, and in each of the contents of the vials I would also see images. Always the same images, but images none the less. I would see a pair of blood red snake eyes, completely empty of any emotion and yet so clearly human. When he'd put away the last vial, Dumbledore said very simply,

"Well, that's that taken care of."

He waved his wand and everything flew back into the cabinet in the corner. He picked up a quill and a scrap of parchment, dipped his quill into a pot of ink and wrote a short note. He disappeared with the note, presumably to send it off, and returned a couple of minutes later, settling himself behind his desk again. He finally looked at me again and said,

"And now we wait."

He lapsed into silence again and started twiddling his thumbs, watching as I stood up and moved to one of the squashy armchairs by the fireplace.

...

15 minutes later the silence was broken by a male voice drifting up from downstairs, sounding more irritated with each syllable he spoke.

"Um... Liquorice? No? Sherbet Lemons then? Honeydukes? Chocolate? Bonbons? For God's sake why can't he keep the same password and have a lovely little note out here reminding us what it is?! Mint humbugs?"

Dumbledore chuckled and called down,

"I do believe having a sign telling people what the password is would defeat the purpose of having a password Harry. Speaking of which, it's Liquorice Snaps. I hate mint. Why on Earth would I make my password mint humbugs?"

Barely a minute later the door opened and a boy of about my age stepped in, pushing back a few strands of his messy black hair from his face impatiently. He wore round glasses, and behind them bright green eyes sparked with annoyance. Despite his obvious irritation I found myself oddly attracted to him. He strode forwards and threw himself into the chair I had so recently vacated, glaring at Dumbledore all the while. Dumbledore took no notice and started prattling on very seriously about something I didn't really pay attention to. I heard something about shifting time, but I was too busy pretending to study all the portraits on the walls while secretly studying the boy instead. He'd noticed me and kept glancing over, apparently as unable to help himself from looking at me as I was from smiling a little more each time his gaze flicked back to me. I knew I wasn't too hard on the eyes, and usually I got those looks from girls, but most of the time I'd return their looks with a glare to show I wasn't interested. In this instance, however, I was perfectly content to have him stare at me. I concentrated again on what was going on and heard Dumbledore say,

"Harry, are you even listening to me? This is serious! I said, time is _shifting_ in Hogwarts and the boy you've been staring at half the time you've been in here is proof of that. Do you recognise him?"

The boy, who I now knew was called Harry, blushed adorably but studied me better anyway. I grinned wider, until Dumbledore said,

"Well, that, my dear boy, is Tom Riddle. Remember him?"

My name triggered something in Harry, and one second he was calmly studying me for something he might recognise, and the next he was out of his chair, back against the wall pointing his wand at me. He blinked and seemed to realise what he was doing, and lowered his wand reluctantly. I wasn't paying attention anymore, I wanted to know why Harry had reacted that way. So I had to get to know him better. I listened carefully to Dumbledore and Harry, and pieced together enough to figure out that I'd somehow time travelled roughly 40 years into the future. When Dumbledore turned to me and asked me I wanted help with anything while I got settled again I saw my chance and grabbed it. I said, as innocently and truthfully as possible,

"Actually, I wouldn't mind having a guide for the first week or so."

Dumbledore smiled and turned to Harry, who looked a little confused before he realised what he was being asked to do. He sighed deeply and agreed, far more grudgingly than I liked, but he agreed nonetheless.

Because Harry was in Gryffindor I'd be a temporary Gryffindor and would sleep there for a while. I wasn't thrilled about the prospect, but it would give me more time to get to know him and get him to like me, so I was fine with it anyway. We'd just reached the Gryffindor Common Room when a professor hurried in after us, holding a long scroll of parchment.

"Ah, Mr Potter, there you are! Where were you at breakfast? I've been looking for you all over, I need to know whether or not you'll be staying here for the Christmas holidays."

She looked at him expectantly, and he looked back at her with a look of complete confusion.

"I'll be staying here of course! I always stay here. Why would I want to go back to the Dursleys?"

This time it was the professor who looked at him in utter confusion.

"Who on Earth are the Dursleys? Don't be so foolish Mr Potter, you'd be going home to your parents of course!"

She shook her head and climbed out of the portrait hole, calling back that she expected his answer by the end of the week. Harry didn't seem to hear her, he looked completely lost in his thoughts. He whispered to himself,

"My parents. I'm going home to my parents for Christmas. How the hell did I forget mom and dad?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: This is on the same day as Chapter 1, one of the people who originally read it got a bit confused so I thought I'd let you know. Please review! :)**

...

**Chapter 3:**

I strode out of the Slytherin common room purposefully, chin up as I looked down at the other students, doing my very best not to show my excitement over doing something as unimportant as going to breakfast. I walked as slowly as I could manage; surreptitiously looking at every face I passed to check if it was him. Considering it was 7 in the morning and I wasn't passing a lot of students it wasn't exactly fair of me to expect him to be there, but I could hope. When I reached the doors to the Great Hall I slowed down further, taking my time to scan every face at the Gryffindor table, still hoping. When it became clear he wasn't there and wasn't hiding anywhere I swallowed my disappointment and told myself off for ignoring what experience had taught me and expecting him to be there anyway. By now I should really know that he was probably one of the laziest wizards of all time, never getting out of bed until he absolutely had to. It seemed to have gotten worse over the last few months, but I couldn't really blame him for trying to get an extra half hour of sleep since we'd sometimes spend whole nights in our secret spot talking. I reached the Slytherin table and settled myself near a corner with my back to the wall so I had a clear view of the hall, especially the doors. I piled food on my plate, knowing it would be impossible for me to finish it all, just wanting an excuse to hang around for longer.

...

Over an hour later he still hadn't shown up and I was starting to get a little annoyed about it. Did he not want to see me before lessons started? Or was he really just that lazy? Either way, I was fast losing patience when I caught sight of him, hurrying towards the Great Hall, clearly barely awake. My annoyance evaporated and I found myself keenly aware of what he looked like and what I looked like. I reached up and made sure there wasn't a hair out of place then straightened my robes as I watched him carefully. He'd been stopped by a terrified looking first year, and when he started talking Harry's shoulders slumped more and more. Not good news then. He replied and dismissed the boy, who hurried off to talk to his friends, and turned towards me. I caught his eye and made exaggerated motions of "come here". He shook his head and stared at something on the Gryffindor table for a couple of seconds before meeting my gaze again, looking apologetic, and hurrying off. What had he been looking at that he deemed more important than me? Another guy? Was he cheating on me?! I stopped myself and told myself for the millionth time since we'd first started dating that Harry wasn't like that, that I was just being paranoid again. I scanned the Gryffindor table more carefully, searching for what could have attracted his attention and finally figured it out. He'd been staring at the _food_. More specifically, the sausages. I smiled to myself, grabbed a napkin and piled sausages onto it. I cast a charm on the napkin so the food would stay warm and slid the package into my satchel before standing up and walking to Charms.

...

When it was finally break time I went to look for Harry and headed towards Gryffindor Tower after I'd checked the Great Hall. At the very least I was hoping to get Weasel and Granger in the hope they could tell me where Harry was. I got there and spotted McGonagall further down the corridor. I steeled myself and hurried after her, calling,

"Professor McGonagall? Professor!"

She stopped and turned, waiting patiently for me to get to her before she nodded her head as an acknowledgement and as a signal for me to go ahead.

"Have you seen Harry anywhere? I can't find him."

"I spoke to Mr Potter just a few minutes ago in the common room, though I should warn you he seemed a little preoccupied. It seems he has a guest who will be staying with him for the coming time."

The butterflies I'd been feeling since this morning when Harry had had to leave intensified to a mass of writhing snakes. I thanked McGonagall and tried to calm myself as I walked back to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Harry wouldn't cheat on me, he wasn't like that. Besides, it might be nothing. Please let it be nothing. I told the Fat Lady the password, and she let the portrait swing forwards to reveal the Gryffindor common room without a comment, knowing already who I'd be looking for in there. I stepped into the round, cosy room decorated with reds and golds, so different from the Slytherin common room. This room was warm whereas the constant greenish gloom in the dungeons made our common room, much as I hated to admit it, cold and a lot less pleasant to be in than here. It was deserted, save two second year girls huddled by the fire that grabbed all of their things and ran up the stairs to their dormitories as soon as they saw me. No matter how often it happened l couldn't deny that their reactions still gave me a certain amount of pleasure. I scanned the common room again to be sure it really was empty then headed up the stairs to Harry's dormitory. I paused again in front of the door to his dorm, listening carefully, and was able to make out a low voice. I threw open the door, ready to catch Harry in the act, but was instead greeted by the sight of a boy I didn't know, sitting on a bed that hadn't been there before, holding a small, black, leather-bound book with incredibly fragile looking pages, mumbling to himself under his breath. I only got a couple of seconds to take a better look at him before he realised he wasn't alone and shut the book with a snap, stuffing it under his mattress as he swung his legs over the side and sat up. Part of my brain, an exceptionally small part, wondered about the book, but the far bigger part was busy thinking "Holy shit". The boy was now making his way over and he was gorgeous. He had amazing cheekbones, a slightly taller than average frame and artfully messy dark brown hair that fell into deep brown eyes that looked at me apologetically. He seemed to be talking, so I hastily switched my attention to what he was saying, doing my best to keep it on that and failing.

"- staying here while –"

His hair really was perfect – messy but intentionally so, arranged carefully so there wouldn't be any tufts sticking out at random angles.

"- not sure how it happened but –"

The closer he got the more I could admire the rest of him too, though the striped PJs he wore under his robes did little in the way of flattering his slender frame.

"- being shown around by someone –"

Seriously, who was this guy? How had I never noticed him before?

"- and Harry is _hot_, definitely has a chance with me –"

I really liked the way his eyes lit up in that cheeky – wait, what? Harry? I played back the last snippet of speech I'd caught from him and realised he _was_ talking about Harry. And he liked him. He liked _my_ Harry. The person I'd been perfectly content to ogle just a few seconds ago morphed into competition for Harry, and I suddenly didn't like him at all. My new dislike for him helped my brain to wake up enough to focus, and I realised he'd stopped talking and was now looking at me expectantly. Step 1 was to gather more knowledge about my new enemy, so I said,

"What did you say your name was?"

He blinked and I noticed how hostile I must have sounded to him. He answered, a wary note creeping into his tone now.

"I'm Tom Riddle. And you are?"

I swallowed and worked to make my tone friendlier, not sure if I managed it.

"Draco Malfoy."

Apparently I hadn't because he took a small step back, nodding as he did so. I didn't really care so I dismissed it with a mental shrug, and instead I asked the question that had made me come up here in the first place.

"Have you seen Harry?"

He replied, a little defensively,

"Yes. You just missed him. He said he was going down to the kitchen to get something to eat because he missed breakfast. Why?"

I ignored his question, turned and hurried down the stairs. Harry had taken me to the kitchens once, and I was almost certain I could find my way back.

...

I only went the wrong way twice, well aware I was now missing Potions, but equally aware that Severus wouldn't mind as long as I caught up on the work I missed. I was staring at the painting of the fruit bowl, trying to remember how Harry had gotten in that time, when the painting suddenly swung outwards, making me jump then relax again when I saw it was Harry. He was facing away from me, so I watched calmly as he jumped out, calling "Thanks!" over his shoulder as the painting swung back in place. He turned, smiling slightly, then saw me standing about 10cm away from him. He jumped and laughed, and I had to admit that no matter how good-looking that Tom person was I still preferred Harry. He stepped closer, looking down at me, and behind his glasses those jade green eyes were dancing with amusement.

"Hey."

"Hey."

My voice came our sounding a little breathless and a lot squeaky. I cleared my throat and tried again.

"Hey."

Nope, no difference, still breathless and squeaky. Harry grinned and leaned in closer, closing his eyes as he did so. I waited until the last second then whirled out of the way and hugged him from behind instead, wrapping my arms around his waist securely and resting my chin on his shoulder. He mock scowled and I kissed his cheek instead, earning a deeper scowl to let me know that wasn't what he was after. I grinned and gave in. He wasted no time – the second I relaxed my grip he twisted in my arms, cupped my face and kissed me. I let myself sink deeper into the kiss, allowing all of my fears about him cheating on me to slide away, as they always did when he kissed me. I knew I worried too much and that I was overly possessive but I couldn't help it, no matter how well I knew that some of my fears were completely irrational. He was more than capable of attracting someone better, he had the looks for it and as an added bonus he was the freaking saviour of the wizarding world. Each time I saw him I got a shock of wonder, never truly letting myself believe he was mine until he'd act the way he always did when we were alone. Whenever we were with others he was still affectionate and made it clear to everyone that we were together, whether they liked it or not, but as good a boyfriend as he was when we had company, he still always had some sort of guard up constantly, one he never relaxed properly until we were alone. Had he not let it down for me before I'd never have known the difference, but I was so glad he had. As I lost myself in the feel of him I thought of how different things would be if anything hadn't happened the way it had.

...

_I was hurrying along one of the many corridors that most people never discovered, trying to get to Transfiguration undetected. Any noise would startle me, making me dive into the nearest shadowy alcove or corner, or into a deserted classroom for cover. I'd started this scared mouse routine a few weeks back when I kept seeing that damned Potter everywhere, always ready with an annoying comment, perfectly designed to make me want to rip his throat out. Unfortunately, after a while my feelings became less "I'm going to kill him" and more "God he's cute when he's annoyed", and that scared the hell out of me. So I avoided him. And that made me 10 times snappier when I did see him. I waited in a hidden spot behind a suit of armour, watching my classmates line up outside the Transfiguration classroom, waiting until the door opened so I could join them and get to safety quickly. There seemed to be a lot more students than usual but I ignored it, intent on getting into that classroom unseen and untormented. The second the door opened I was off, forcing my way through the crowd of people so I could be in my seat as quickly as possible, with a full hour of not having to worry about Potter ahead of me. Bliss. I settled down and got out my wand as well as a roll of parchment and my writing equipment. I was just putting everything down when I heard a familiar sounding voice behind me. I turned slowly, praying I was wrong, but no, of course I wouldn't be that lucky. Directly behind me, shooting me a smug looking smirk was Harry. Fucking. Potter. After the initial feeling of "I wish he were mine" passed all I could feel was pure rage. I was doing my very best to avoid him so I wouldn't do anything stupid and he kept showing up everywhere and it made everything so much harder! Impulsively I grabbed my wand and turned, muttering a spell that did God-knows-what and pointed my wand right in his face. I barely had time to register what I'd done when I heard a loud chorus of yelling go up from everywhere around the classroom and felt several spells hit me, some of which pretty painful. I dimly registered McGonagall shouting something and being lifted up before I passed out._

_I woke up to someone's green eyes hovering just over my own. I tried to scramble back but found myself not able to move quite as easily as I before. The green eyes above me moved back enough for me to make out round glasses and messy black hair. My gut clenched and I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it was a nightmare or a hallucination. I opened my eyes again but he was still there, so I gathered all my strength and forced myself into a sitting position. I was expecting him to start on how I'd hexed him, with a lot of unpleasant comments thrown in, but instead he asked, with what sounded to me like genuine concern in his voice,_

_"How do you feel?"_

_Since I was too surprised to really think about it I automatically replied with,_

_"Terrible. What happened?"_

_He looked suddenly sheepish, and the part of my brain that was constantly assessing how I felt about him instantly decided this was an adorable expression on him. He cleared his throat and said,_

_"Well, after you, you know, hexed me, about half the class decided it was an assassination attempt and you got hit by a good 30 hexes at once, some of which were pretty nasty."_

_His concerned expression abruptly changed to one of indignation and he said,_

_"As if they all thought I was incapable of defending myself though!"_

_I looked at him pointedly and said,_

_"I certainly don't recall that you actually did hex me yourself."_

_He grinned and asked sweetly,_

_"Draco, who do you think is the reason you lost all your hair?"_

_My hands flew up to my head and when I felt my hair still there I sighed audibly in relief before turning on Harry, ready to give him a good tongue-lashing, only to find him shaking with silent laughter. I glared at him icily and he choked out in between the bouts of laughter that now burst forth,_

_"Your... Face!"_

_It took him a while to calm down enough to be able to carry on the conversation, but I was perfectly content to continue glaring at him while marvelling at the fact that neither of us had reached for out wands yet to hex the other into oblivion. Even if I wasn't in much of a condition to do so. My jaw went slack as I realised something and I turned to Potter._

_"Why did you call me Draco?"_

_He blushed and looked down._

_"Why have you been avoiding me?" he countered._

_This time I looked down and then my mouth, clearly feeling a lot braver than the rest of me, blurted out,_

_"Because I didn't want you to realise how I feel about you."_

_He was silent for a few seconds, and I still refused to look up to look at his face so I could judge how he was taking this. Then he said, very softly,_

_"Draco?"_

_I still didn't look up, and then two fingers were tilting my chin up, forcing me to meet his piercing gaze, and he told me,_

_"I feel the same way."_

_And then he kissed me._

...

Harry pulled back and I opened my eyes slowly, looking at him dreamily. He chuckled and leaned closer, whispering in my ear,

"I love it when you look at me like that."

My fog of bliss lifted without warning and all the feelings that had left before came rushing back, and I found myself thinking again of the issue of Tom Riddle. I looked at Harry and asked,

"Who's Tom Riddle?"

A crease appeared between his eyebrows and he told me he wasn't sure. He stared into space for a minute, frown still in place, before coming back down to Earth and saying more firmly,

"I'm not sure."

Something in the set of his face made me feel bad about asking, but I persisted anyway.

"How do you know him?"

"I'm actually quite sure I don't, but it might be easier to explain if we go back to Gryffindor Tower."

I nodded slowly, unsure, and remembered the sausages out of the blue. I rooted around in my bag and found the still warm package, dusting off some fluff from my bag before handing them over.

"You were looking at them earlier and I knew you missed breakfast so I thought I'd grab you some."

He tapped the napkin with his wand to unseal it and unrolled it, grinning widely when he saw a mini mountain of sausages inside, one slightly squashed.

"Thanks."

...

When we got back to Harry's dorm Tom was still there, sitting on his bed again, this time playing with his wand and making random objects zoom around the beds. Harry introduced me again and I kept one of my arms wrapped possessively around his waist, trying to get it across to Tom that Harry was taken and that I wouldn't give up without a fight. When I tightened my grip Harry kissed me on the cheek mid-sentence and continued explaining. I suppressed a smile of satisfaction but I still saw Tom glare at me. Once I'd gotten the general idea of what had happened I excused myself and fled. To me it had suddenly become very simple. Tom was a threat to my relationship with Harry. I had to get rid of that threat, and the only way I was willing to do that was by sending him back to his own time. It was time to go see Dumbledore.

...

It took me a while to remember what Harry had said the password was but I remembered it before I got too tempted by the idea of smashing the gargoyle to pieces. I knocked on the door and entered when Dumbledore's voice instructed me to do so. He was sitting behind his desk, back straight and eyes clear, though he'd clearly been worrying about something when I'd come in. He gestured for me to sit down, so I pulled out a chair and sat down, mentally preparing myself. He broke the silence first.

"So, Draco, why is it you decided to pay me a visit?"

I considered a few different tactical approaches before deciding they wouldn't help and getting straight to the point.

"We need to get rid of Tom Riddle, sir."

He smiled slightly, and asked,

"And how do you propose we manage that?"

"He somehow time travelled here, why can't we send him back the same way?"

Dumbledore didn't bother to say anything to that, just kept looking at me calmly. I took it as encouragement and continued.

"I spoke to Tom and he said he'd gone down to the library, to the restricted section at night, and that he'd settled down in one corner when he'd started to feel really drowsy. When he woke up he found himself here, and when I asked him if would be able to find the same spot again he said yes. So why can't we test that? Tonight we go to the same spot and try to send a bird to the past, more specifically, a point in your past so we know if it worked if you suddenly get a new memory of that bird. Tom said he'd just been thinking about sleeping and nothing else, so maybe Hogwarts decided to send him some place random? And if that were true, wouldn't it then technically be possible to plan a destination for your time travels? If all of that worked out we could send him home."

I looked at Dumbledore hopefully, looking for a sign that he approved of my hastily thought out plan and finding none. He seemed to be about to reply when we heard someone stumbling around outside. Dumbledore jumped up out of his chair, surprisingly agile for a man of his age, and walked over to the door. He threw it open, and there stood a woman with wildly curling hair, hundreds of bangles and bracelets that made a lot of noise and thick spectacles that made her eyes look enormous and vaguely bug-like. Her skinny frame was half wrapped in a shawl that was making a desperate bid for freedom, constantly falling on the ground and almost making it until she noticed and wrapped it around herself again more securely. She opened her mouth and out came a harsh rasping voice, saying,

"_The Dark Lord is now undecided, and has at true happiness one shot. Should he succeed everyone will join him in his joy. Should he fail everyone else will suffer also._"

She collapsed dramatically in a heap on the rug. Dumbledore looked down at her for a second before kneeling next to her and saying,

"On second thoughts, I think it may be best if we try to solve everything immediately. We'll test out your theory tonight."


End file.
